Conventional Sunlight

I thought naming each plant
in the garden would be enough
their species grouped clumps
arranged proper treatments
through some accepted recipe.

But I noticed roots, grasp
down in common earth
to different grains, sand,
rock and wood, dead husks,
the rich excrement of worms,
and the wet life that flows

It was by accident, I vanished
where I could see myself
counting particles of dirt
that aligned forming rows
where roots grew deep lifting
determined to reach the core
that forever pulls down.

How startling it is, to be seen
realizing this is happening
by the dog who licks his balls
or cats mystically turned inward.

I thought of you in my surprise
being fascinating while absent
ideal rows of sand, imagination
forming a perfect sunflower
whose round petaled face, seeded
can only stare up to fixed points

Until I was destroyed by looking
through myself to mottled earth
where no true things are fixed
except by a will that drained
intangibly over five years

Just like Law I saw our fixed point
as habits grind on mechanics
my passion, spread wide as night
cut to a heart dyed red from paper
as if purchased from a story.

And as you came, with clocks and lines
just like a beetle rolls down mounds
I realized sunflowers only see the sun.
for me to marvel at your fine hair
that you might say words already known
is impossible, for I am not up there
in that enlargement of yourself

I am down in the garden wandering
discovering wonders that destroy me
so my debris scattered across the garden
might absorb me in toward home.

And as you came, I saw the gilding
catch light that frames a flat print
in books scribed and handed down
from fathers to sons and daughters
that I squeeze inside by wrote

And the garden grows by
almost an inch.